LYCAON: The First Pack
by Night Owl 93
Summary: Lycaon is fierce king and warrior to his people, as well as a loving father to his 15 children. But after celebrating another victorious battle, he and his sons commit an act that angers the gods so greatly that they are marked with a beastly curse. -An adaptation of the myth of King Lycaon, one of the first werewolf tales in history.


1.

The sun on that day rose to the cheers of the city. Hooves galloped up the mountain path ahead of the dawn towards the royal metropolis Lycosoura of Pelasgia. The gates opened to make welcome the soldiers returning home. The people applauded the line of iron-clad men striding on horseback through the streets. In the lead rode their mighty king and leader, Lycaon. With him were his sons, four of the total twelve he possessed, each of them fully grown and matured into the strongest, most able-bodied fighters in their father's army. There was eldest son and heir, Nycotemus, along with Maenalus, Thyreus, and Carisius. Following in tow were the remaining fleet with their commanding officer at the head. At the end of the succession was a cart, now filled with the corpses of their slain opponents collected from the battle fields. Townspeople laughed and tossed scraps and rubbish at the swollen, bloody carcasses.

The men rode into the armory to hang back up their steel. Their commander, meanwhile, retired to her own private quarters to change.

"Where is that stable boy when you need him?" one of them grunted as he dismounted his steed.

Sure enough, the appointed "stable boy", Caneus, came running.

"Ah, there he is now," announced one.

"Our horses are hungry," said Thyreus to the boy as he handed him the reins, "And they need a good brushing."

"Now hop to it, boy!"

The lad bowed his head and took each of the horse's by their reins to lead them into the stables to be tended.

In the armory, one of the youngest royal sons, a boy aged eight years named Socleus, was watching with intent fascination as the blacksmith, Lodeus, hammered away at a fresh strip of red steel.

The boy's father, after removing his armor, crept upon him and scooped him up into his arms, surprising him.

"And what are you doing down here, little man?" he asked the giggling child.

"Heeheehee! I have been helping Lodeus make the swords!" answered Socleus.

"The pup has a keenness for the making of swords," remarked Socleus as he dunked the hot metal into the water. The young prince watched as closely as ever as the steel hissed.

"He will grow to make many. And he will use every single one," said the king as he set his son back to the floor, ruffling his bouncy brown locks. "Where is your mother?" he then asked.

"She is still sleeping, I think," answered Socleus, "As are Callisto and Hypsus. The rest are in the courtyard."

"Well let us go join them."

After Lycaon's sons had shed their iron garbs, they tailed after their father and little brother through the palace to greet the rest of his family. In the courtyard, two more of his sons, the twins Polichas and Portheus were giving chase to their younger sister, Dalia. In her running, her foot slipped on the wet grass. They were quickly upon her. She tried to get back to her feet, but was pushed back down.

"Surrender," they ordered, jabbing their wooden swords at her, "Now!"

In a flash, the girl picked up a fat branch from the ground to use against the both of them. She quickly disarmed Polichas, knocking him down on his rump. Taking his sword, she soon took down her other brother as well.

The men all cheered and clapped at the spectacle as they sat watching in the shade. The young girl beamed at the sight of her returned brothers, as did Polichas and Portheus. But, when Polichas tried to rise, Dalia kept him down by pressing her foot to his chest.

"Not until you surrender," she grinned down at him, pointing his own sword in his face.

While focused on Polichas, Portheus regained his footing and picked back up his sword. Before he could even poise to strike, she swung the stick still in hand, knocking the toy weapon from his grip yet again.

"You both fight like a couple of girls," she snickered at them.

Victorious, she then dropped her weapons and ran straight into her father's arms.

"If those two could fight as well as you…" said Lycaon.

"They still would not stand a chance," interjected the woman now joining them. She had changed out of her battle garb and into a flowing white peplos, her dark hair, flecked with silver, no longer constricted by her helmet, but unbraided and cascading freely down her back.

"Nora!" squealed Dalia, who raced into the arms of her oldest and most beloved sister.

"Ohoho, my lovely little man-slayer," chortled Nora as she spun her little sister around, "Barely morning and already clashing swords with your brothers?"

"Heehee, indeed I am," giggled Dalia with a look of smug pride upon her face, "I never tire of whipping their asses."

"It is unfair!" barked Portheus, "She fights dirty!"

"Yeah," agreed Polichas, "Using a stick in a sword fight is against the rules!"

"Two armed boys ganging on a defenseless young girl is hardly fair to begin with," Maenalus retorted.

"Besides, as I have said before, there is no such thing as a fair fight," then said Thyreus, "The one who comes out on top is the one with the strength and the wits to do what's necessary. It is a dog-eat-dog world we live in, boys."

"Speaking of eating," spoke Carisius, "Who do we have to kill to get some food 'round here? I'm starved!"

Each of his brothers nodded unanimously. It had been a long journey from such a hellish battle; needless to say, they were ravenous.

Lycaon chuckled, squeezing Carisius' shoulder, "That's my boy; just come back from days of endless slaughter, and still hungry for more killing!"

"I hunger for wine and meat," proclaimed Maenalus as he rose from his seat, patting his growling belly.

"I second that," Thyreus concurred as he stood as well, "Let us all go down to the kitchen and see what we can get."

"Go and wake the rest of your siblings," Lycaon told Socleus, "Let them know their men have returned home."

The boy ran off to fulfill his task while the others went in search of nourishment. Meanwhile, the king himself slipped off into his bedchambers. There, he found his wife lying on her side, indeed still snoozing. Leaning against the bed's canopy frame, his eyes drank her curvy nude form shaped by the white sheet draped over her. Even though she was aged a near-forty years, her body remained firm and luscious. He made sure the babies were still sleeping as well before he disrobed. She did not wake when he slithered under the sheet to press himself behind her, not until his lips touched her neck and his hand came around to caress her.

"Mmmmh," she moaned lazily, squirming back against him, "My king."

His furry lips whispered into her ear, "My queen," as he slid inside her.

* * *

**This is my adaptation of the myth of King Lycaon, which has been known as the first and oldest werewolf story in recorded history, written as a genesis tale for the origin of werewolves. Along with all the fantasy elements (the whole transforming to wolves and the appearance of at least one god), this is very much a family drama, focusing on the relationship between Lycaon as his 15 children and how they all relate and interact with each other, especially after their curse has taken place. character development is also a key element in writing this story, especially since their are well over a dozen main characters to focus on all at once.**

**This story is also only LOOSELY based on the original myth. I highly recommend looking up the story and its multiple variations just to get an idea of what this'll be all about, but this is still something totally new and totally different from any known version of the myth.**

**and just wait, this is going to get SOOO much more interesting.**

**enjoy**


End file.
